


Like A Creepy, Hairless Cat

by VYCanisMajoris



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, IronWidow - Freeform, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Natasha, Touch-Starved tony, hopefully its more fluff than angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VYCanisMajoris/pseuds/VYCanisMajoris
Summary: For Tumblr Prompt:Do you write IronWidow? If so, can you write a small Drabble about Tony and Natasha both being touch starved but due to their upbringing they hide it, except from each other?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

There was no comfort for them, none allowed, none offered, none they could even think about. From as early as she can recall, Natasha never had, and never searched for, physical comfort. She understands the desire, the warmth and feeling of security, but that requires trust, something not easily given. 

She watches the others, the brief touches between Bucky and Clint, Sam and Steve holding hands as they walk, the hugs given freely to all within their make-shift family. She watches, but doesn’t partake, doesn’t know if she can or should. Even Bruce, the quiet, once fearful man, doesn’t shy away from a tight hug from Thor or high-five from Clint, who demands one after every pun he makes, though the majority fall short. 

Natasha watches them interact, moving into each other’s spaces without discomfort, without fear, and wonders how they do it. Her hands twitch sometimes, a tick she’s had since she was a child of the Red Room, one she’s tried to break countless times without success, and she forces them still, before any of them see it. 

Clint knows about her… lack of comfort, but didn’t push when she told him to stop. He’d offer her some, a hand to hold, but she doesn’t want to force him to. He has Bucky, Sam has Steve, and she has herself, which she can always count on. 

Tony though… she watches as he enters the living room, bags beneath his warm eyes, hair tangled in mass amounts of oil, and smudges across his face. He looks half-dead, and Natasha’s surprised he hasn’t passed out from exhaustion yet. She moves to help him, but freezes as he tumbles onto the couch beside her. She lets out a huffing laugh, and says, “You alright, Tony?”

He mumbles, “Peachy,” and gives her a thumbs-up. 

“You look like you lost a fight with DUM-E and a bucket of grease.”

“Nope,” he shifts closer to her on the couch, eyes shut, “I’m a regular oil-wrestler. It’s how I paid for MIT.” 

Tony closes the gap between them, laying his head on her lap, not bothering to open his eyes to gauge her reaction. Natasha stares down at his tangled curls, frozen as she thinks this out. 

He’s close to falling asleep, so he clearly isn’t thinking this through, maybe he does this with everyone? Natasha knows that he climbs all over Rhodes with he comes back from leave, but during Rhodes’ absence? He’s just like her, she realizes, watching but not doing. 

“Wish I could have seen that,” she finally says, laying a hand on the back of Tony’s neck. 

He lets out a soft hum as she scratches his head like a cat, and says, “Buy me dinner like any classy gentleman would, and we’ll see where this goes.”

She smiles, filing away that bit of information, and says, “You’re like a cat, one of those creepy, hairless ones.”

He lets out a mock gasp, which turns into a yawn, which turns into soft breaths and heavy limbs. Natasha watches him with wide eyes, watching how he relaxes into her completely, but mostly, she’s wondering why she isn’t shying away. 

Instead of shifting him to the couch and sneaking off like she was planning, Natasha stays, running her fingers through his hair and taking out the majority of the tangles, watching him sleep.

One hand curled around the reactor, the other gripping her knee as if she’ll run off, though she will admit that she was thinking of it, Tony resembles a small child, protecting themselves and their stuffed animal. He sleeps like he’s afraid of what sleep holds for him, something Natasha understands completely. 

They stay like that for two hours, during which Natasha pulls out her phone and starts taking pictures of Tony for future photoshop and blackmail, all of which she’ll show to him at a later time. She won’t show the rest of the team, she knows that Tony’s showing her some special form of trust that only Rhodey has, though in Tony's state of exhaustion he probably doesn’t realize it. 

Tony wakes slowly, eyes fluttering open as he lets out a soft groan and asks, “Where…?”

“Living room,” she responds, taking one last picture. 

“Why picture?”

“Cute man, asleep like kitten, make good picture.”

“I’m not a caveman.”

“You’re talking like one.” 

Tony pouts, and his eyes flash open wide as he realizes what he’s on, specifically _who_ he’s on. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, pushing himself away, “I didn’t mean to-to do that, it won’t happen again, I… sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Natasha says slowly, taking in his shocked and scared eyes. She finds herself saying, admitting, “It was nice.” 

He frowns, brows furrowing together to form a small crease that, in her mind, shouldn’t exist, and says, “Nice? How?”

“I’ll tell you after dinner,” Natasha replies, hoping she isn’t taking this too far too fast. 

“W-What?” The crease disappears, along with his brows as they rise to his hairline. 

“Any classy gentleman would, right?” She stands from the couch, moving carefully since her legs fell asleep under Tony, and holds out a hand. “Let’s go.” 

His eyes flicker between her hand and her face several times, doing mental calculations too fast for her to follow though she wants to, before giving a small nod. He takes her hand, and lets out a soft noise of surprise when, after pulling him to his feet, she doesn’t let go. 

Tony stares at her hand for a moment, cheeks dusted with pink, before looking back to her and then away, but he tightens his grip on her hand. 

Natasha smiles to herself, and pulls Tony along. Clint has Bucky, Sam has Steve, Bruce has Betty, Thor has Jane, and she has Tony, whom she has _no_ intentions of letting slip through her fingers.


End file.
